It Runs in the Family—But So Does Denial

Let's talk about cycles- the emotional kind, not SoulCycle; though both can leave you breathless, questioning your life choices, and wondering why this feels familiar again. Whether it's dating emotionally unavailable people like it's your full-time job, people-pleasing your way into chronic resentment, or repeating the same dysfunctional family dynamics with the enthusiasm of a cursed heirloom, these patterns don't just happen. They're learned. They're reinforced. And, annoyingly enough, they're comfortable- like an old hoodie that smells like regret and bad boundaries.

But here's the good news: just because you were handed the script doesn't mean you have to keep performing it.

In this episode, we're digging into how these self-sabotage symphonies get started, why they're so damn hard to break, and what it actually takes to stop the loop, and write something better. Spoiler alert: it involves awareness, discomfort, and probably some therapy.

So, buckle up- we're snipping generational nonsense like it's toxic bangs in a 2007 bathroom mirror. This is Shrink Wrapped, and today, we're breaking cycles before they break you. Let's get into it.

Breaking cycles; whether it's your grandma’s “we don’t talk about feelings” tradition, your habit of dating people who communicate exclusively via memes, or the family curse of never seasoning chicken, it ain’t easy. But guess what? It’s 100% possible. Sure, it feels like trying to hack through a jungle with a plastic spoon, but every time you choose differently—set a boundary, say no to self-sabotage, or actually go to therapy instead of just quoting TikTok therapists—you’re rewriting the script.

Yeah, your brain might fight you. It loves the comfort of the familiar, even when the familiar is a dumpster fire. But here’s the thing: discomfort is temporary, growth is permanent. So, take the step. Be the one who says, “Nah, we’re doing better this time.” Your future self will thank you. Probably with a happy cry and a well-seasoned meal. So let's dive into all the fun and exciting ways we can break cycles, and maybe even generational curses while we're at it (because why not, right?).

Breaking cycles is like realizing you've been trapped in a corn maze- only the corn is made of bad habits, codependency, generational guilt, and your aunt's unsolicited advice. You're not just walking in circles- you're power walking into the same damn wall over and over again, wondering why life feels like a rerun of a show you didn't  even like the first time. Spoiler: it's because you're still reading from the same dusty old script your family handed you, complete with unhealed trauma, emotional avoidance, and the classic, "We don’t talk about that" plot twist.

And here's where it gets fun and uncomfortable: some of the patterns you swear you hate? Yea, you might be repeating them like a cursed family recipe. That whole "I'm never gonna be like them" thing? Cute. But unless you've actually unpacked the behaviors, not just the vibes, chances are you're halfway through recreating the same dysfunction with better branding.

The first step is calling it out. You can't break what you refuse to admit exists. So start asking: Why do I always end up in these emotionally bankrupt situationships? Why do I panic at the thought of setting a boundary? Why do I treat rest like a crime scene? If it feels like déjà vu, it probably is. You're not cursed- you're conditioned. And the moment you realize that, you've got the power to do something radically rebellious: choose differently.

And yeah, it's messy. It's awkward. It might make your inner child throw a tantrum. But breaking the cycle means you stop passing the dysfunction baton like it's a family heirloom. You can keep what's useful, and yeet the rest.

Welcome to the chaos. Let's make it conscious.

Once you spot the pattern, it's time to go full psychological spelunking, and dig into the root cause- because, let's be honest, this crap didn't just sprout up overnight like an anxiety pimple before a big presentation. Nah, these are usually survival strategies we cobbled together with emotional duct tape and blind optimism back when we were tiny humans just trying t make sense of a chaotic world. Think of them as the psychological equivalent of using a bobby pin to fix a car. It kinda worked… until it really, really didn't.

So here's where it gets spicy: you've got to start interrogating your own behavior like it just got caught sneaking back into the house past curfew. Ask yourself- Is this thing I keep doing actually helping me, or just keeping me comfortably stuck? Am I clinging to it because it's familiar? Because it kept me safe once? Or maybe it was modeled for you by someone who definitely shouldn't have been your emotional blueprint (no shade.. Okay, maybe some shade).

And now for the real plot twist- what is this pattern actually doing for you? Because even the most toxic behavior usually has a twisted little payoff. Maybe people-pleasing lets you avoid conflict like a little ninja. Maybe emotional shutdown gives you the illusion of control. Maybe replaying the worst case scenarios feels safer than actually taking a risk. Whatever the flavor, your brain isn't doing this for fun- it's doing this because it thinks it's protecting you.

The good news? Once you know what the pattern gives you, you can start getting that need met in a way that doesn't wreck your peace, your relationships, or your sanity. You get to rewrite the script. Choose a new response. Actually evolve.

Alright, so you've spotted the pattern, unearthed the emotional rubble, and basically gone full Indiana Jones on your psyche. Congrats- you're now an emotional archaeologist with a minor in self-sabotage. But don't pop the champagne just yet, because here comes the part where your brain starts flailing like a toddler in Target: challenging your deeply held beliefs.

And oooh boy, do those beliefs put up a fight. Because a lot of these cycles? They're not sticking around because they're true- they're sticking around because your brain's been marinating in them like an emotional crockpot soup since childhood. Stuff like, "This is just how I am" (translation: "Change is hard and I'm emotionally hungover"). Or, "I'll never change" (aka "I tried once, it didn't work immediately, so I rage quit like a dramatic raccoon"). And let's not forget the fan favorite: "It's too late for me" (you're not a moldy banana, Brenda. You're a human being, not a piece of expired produce).

These aren't universal truths- they're just mental post-it notes you've slapped on your identity so many times that you forgot they were optional. They're stories. Narratives. Self-fulfilling prophecies dressed up as personality traits.

So what now? You rewrite the script. You grab the metaphorical Sharpie and scrawl something new over that tired old storyline. Something like "I can change." "I deserve better." "I'm not doomed to repeat the same crap forever just because it's familiar."

Yes, it might feel cheesy. But you know what else is cheesy? Pizza. And literally no one is out here rejecting pizza.

So go ahead, serve up some hot, fresh belief upgrades with a side of growth.  Your future self will thank you. Probably with better boundaries and less emotional whiplash.

Now we're in the thick of it: the part where you stop intellectualizing your trauma like it's a podcast topic and actually do something about it. Yep, it's time to make the conscious choice to break the cycle- which, fun fact, is not nearly as cute as it sounds. Cycles don't gently unravel like a cozy sweater. They go down like a budget action movie called Fast & Emotionally Furious.

And here's the kicker: it's going to be uncomfortable as hell. Growth always is. It means saying "no" without ten minutes of apologizing. It means setting boundaries with people who fully expected you to keep being their unpaid therapist, emotional shock absorber, or guilt sponge. It means trading your trusty coping crutches- like stress-shopping, binge-watching shows you've already memorized, or scrolling TikTok until your soul detaches- for actual coping strategies like journaling, feeling your feelings (ew), or like taking a walk.

It means walking away from relationships that are clearly one-sided, manipulative, or just plain exhausting- even if part of you is still hoping they'll change. (Spoiler: they wont. Not unless they want to. And it’s not your job to become their emotional makeover montage.)

And yeah, it's gonna feel weird. Every time you choose the new path, it might feel unnatural, awkward, even kind of ugly- like a baby giraffe learning how to stand. But guess what? It still counts. That tiny shaky step is still forward movement. You're still breaking the pattern, even if you look like you're doing it in emotional clown shoes.

Keep going. You don't need to be graceful. You just need to be done with the BS.

Alright, so you've called out your dusty old beliefs, made the brave (and possibly unhinged) decision to do things differently, and now- plot twist- it feels awful. Like, full-body cringe, imposter syndrome in a trench coat, "what the hell am I even doing?" awful. Congrats, my friend. You've officially entered the "This Sucks But Means Something" phase of healing.

Welcome to the delightful psychological neighborhood known as Discomfort Town- population: you and every single person who's ever dared to grow. Because here's the hard truth: your brain isn't wired for what's healthy- it's wired for what's familiar. And familiar can be absolute garbage, but if it's garbage you've crawled through before, your brain's like "Ah yes, our trash pile. So cozy. Let's stay here forever." So even when you're doing the right thing- like setting boundaries, choosing rest, or not texting back your chaos goblin ex- your brain is going to freak out like you're committing treason.

It'll whisper stuff like: "This doesn’t feel safe." "You're being mean." "Go back. At least you knew how to emotionally disassociate there." And it'll serve you a steaming hot plate of doubt with a side of guilt and a garnish of nostalgia. Cute.

But let me be real with you- discomfort isn't a red flag. It's not a sign that you're failing. It's just your brain glitching out because it's never been here before. Growth is not glamorous. It's not standing on a mountaintop in a flowy dress with the wind perfectly catching your hair. It's more like tripping over your own emotional shoelaces while sobbing into a burrito at 2am and still choosing not to text the person who wrecked your peace.

You will second guess yourself. You'll still feel like a fraud. You'll fantasize about crawling back into your old patterns and swaddling yourself in toxic comfort like a dysfunctional weighted blanket. Don't.

Awkward doesn't mean wrong. It just means you're in motion. And motion is messy. Keep going.

Even if you're crawling through the mud of your own progress, guess what? That still beats building a house in the emotional swamp you swore you were done with.

And listen- this whole "healing" thing? You do not have to solo it like you're on some gritty emotional survival show called "Naked and Afraid: Childhood Trauma Edition." Seriously. This isn't a one-person hero's journey. You're not Frodo, and even he had a whole damn fellowship. So yeah, get support. Assemble your emotional Avengers.

Talk to a therapist; and not the kind who just stares at you blankly while whispering "mmm" every five minutes like a sentient lavender candle. Find one who actually calls you out with love, helps you connect the dots, and doesn't let you gaslight yourself into thinking you're fine when you're clearly spiraling in sweatpants.

Find friends who want you to level up. You know, the ones who clap for your growth instead of side-eyeing you like you've betrayed the group chat by going to therapy and suddenly having boundaries. The ones who don't say stuff like "You’ve changed…" as if it's a crime, but instead say, "Hell yeah, you've changed. Let's get you a crown."

And look, I know joining a support group sounds like some awkward nightmare where everyone cries and then shares their feelings over stale cookies. But spoiler: it actually helps. Nothing hits quite like realizing that you're not the only one trying to break free from generational chaos while pretending to be a functioning adult.

Surround yourself with people who see the new version of you- the one who's trying, failing, and trying again- and cheer you on like you're doing something epic. Because you are. Breaking cycles is Olympic-level inner work. It’s hard. It's exhausting. But doing it alone? That's just unnecessary emotional CrossFit.

Let people help. Accept the encouragement. Let your hype squad gas you up when you're doub0ing yourself. You're not weak for needing support- you're wise enough to know that transformation is not a one-person job.

And just in case no one's said it yet? You're doing a damn good job. Now go hydrate and text someone who makes you feel like your best self.

Alright, so you've accepted that discomfort is part of the package (congrats on choosing the "hard mode" path to emotional freedom), you’ve built your support crew like you're casting the reboot of Healthy Life: The Series, and now it's time for the next big boss battle: Rewiring Your Reactions.

Because let's be honest- if your go-to stress response is ghosting your responsibilities like a dating app flake, rage-texting people who didn't technically deserve it, or inhaling an entire sleeve of Oreos while disassociating into the void, then we've got a pattern, babe. And patterns? That's what we're here to break.

Cycle-breaking isn't just about the dramatic life pivots or posting inspirational quotes on instagram stories. Its about the tiny, gritty, wildly inconvenient moments when you catch yourself about to do The Thing- you know the one- and you stop. You pause.  You choose differently. Even if it's awkward. Even if your body's practically vibrating with the urge to react like you always have.

Instead of spiraling into a full-blown meltdown because someone sent a vaguely passive-aggressive text (hi, abandonment issues), try breathing. Yea, just breathing. I know. Revolutionary. Annoying. But weirdly effective. You don't have to ascend into Zen monk territory- just one deep breath that says "I am not going to emotionally combust over this today."

Instead of bottling up every emotion like you're prepping for an emotional apocalypse, open your Notes app, and unleash chaos. Seriously. Write, "I'm mad and I don't know why and everything is stupid and I hate this and also maybe I'm just hungry." That's progress. That's you making space instead of exploding like a repressed feelings piñata.

And when you're about to default to that old, crusty, self-sabotaging behavior, whether it's ghosting someone, doom-scrolling into another dimension, or volunteering for something you know you don't have the capacity for- pause and ask yourself: What would the best version of me do right now?

Not the flawless, hyper-productive, fantasy self who wakes up at 5am and drinks green juice- no, we're talking about the you who's just trying a little harder than yesterday. The one who's healing, not performing. The one who sends the awkward text instead of vanishing. The one who drinks some damn water instead of feeding their anxiety 47 grams of sugar.

That version? They’re already in you. You just have to choose them.

And if you mess it up? Cool. Try again. That's what healing actually looks like- one weird, wobbly, wildly human decision at a time.

But hold up- before you go full scorched earth on your entire existence in the name of growth, let's slow it down. You don't need to Marie Kondo your whole life by midnight. You're breaking cycles, not entering a self-help Olympics. Set small, doable, actually-human goals. Otherwise, you're just setting yourself up for burnout disguised as personal development.

Trying to quit people-pleasing? Cool. But maybe don't start by quitting your job, ghosting your group chat, and moving to a yurt to find your "authentic self." Let's not go full dramatic rebrand just yet. Start by saying "no" to one thing that doesn’t serve you- like agreeing to bake cupcakes for a coworker's dog's birthday party. Baby steps.

Tired of being your own worst critic? Awesome. But you don't have to become a walking affirmation board overnight. Just catch one trash-talk thought like "I'm the worst" and replace it with " Ok, maybe I'm not Beyonce, but I'm doing fine." You don't have to lie to yourself, you just have to stop bullying yourself.

Think of it like a video game. Every time you choose a new response, set a boundary, or speak to yourself like you're not the human equivalent of a disappointing group project partner, that's a level-up. You're gaining XP. And yeah, maybe you're still fumbling around with a wooden sword and barely any armor, but every little win is getting you closer to that final boss battle: actually breaking the cycle for good.

Will you still slip up? Absolutely. Will you sometimes say yes when you meant hell no, or accidentally spiral over a typo in a text? Of course. That's part of the game. The point isn't perfection, it's progress. The slow, messy, gloriously human kind.

So keep going. Keep leveling up. And when you finally face that old cycle head-on, you won't be alone, unprepared, or stuck- you'll be the badass who clawed their way there one tiny rebellious win at a time.

Alright, so you're out here doing the work. Rewiring your reactions. Setting boundaries. Saying no without spiraling into a guilt coma (mostly). You're basically becoming a self-improvement machine- but like, with feelings. And then- bam- you slip. You snap at someone for asking a harmless question. You ghost your therapist. You say yes to something your soul screamed no to. And suddenly your brain's like "Welp. That's it. The healing era's over. Time to embrace the chaos goblin I've always been."

NOPE. Absolutely not. Stop that inner monologue mid-spiral. Because guess what? Slipping up is part of the process. This is not a Disney montage where you magically become healed after one good journaling session and a cup of tea. You're not a perfectly coded robot sent here to make flawless choices and ascend into enlightenment on a cloud of sage smoke. You're a messy, beautiful, real-life human trying to undo years, decades, maybe even generations, of autopilot BS.

You don't fail when you mess up. You learn. That's the deal. Healing is not a straight line- it's a drunk toddler learning to walk while juggling emotional baggage and occasionally lighting something on fire. It's two steps forward, one step back, three side-steps, and then you fall into a metaphorical bush, and come out holding a little more wisdom.

The goal isn't perfection (spoiler: she's fake, overhyped, and deeply exhausting). The goal is better. Just a smidge better than yesterday. And if today was a total disaster, if you spiral-texted your ex, ignored every red flag in your inbox, or emotionally imploded over a slow-loading app, then cool. Regroup. Hydrate. Let tomorrow suck a little less. That's it. That's the bar. And it's enough.

So dust yourself off, give yourself a wink in the mirror, and remember: you're not starting over, you're continuing- wiser, stronger, and still wildly human.

And here's the part that might really hit you right in the gut (in the best way): this isn't just about you.

Yeah, I know. Healing feels personal. Raw. Exhausting. Like emotional CrossFit no one asked you to sign up for. But every time you choose differently- even when it's awkward, messy, or feels like you're failing- you're not just breaking cycles. You're building a whole new legacy. You're flipping the script that's been handed down like a family casserole recipe made of repression, guilt, and passive-aggressive comments.

Maybe it means your future kids grow up in a house where emotions aren't just allowed, they're normalized. No more "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about" energy. Just real feelings, real conversations, and actual tools for dealing with life that don't involve stuffing everything down like emotional Tupperware.

Maybe it means your friendships finally feel mutual, because you stopped playing the role of emotional unpaid intern, and started setting boundaries that don't require a PowerPoint explanation.

Maybe, just maybe, it means your family looks at you, sees the changes, and starts wondering, "Wait, we're allowed to do things differently?" And even if they don't, someone watching will. Because this work? It ripples. It echoes. It changes the room, the vibe, the culture. You're not just changing your own life- you're messing with the entire generational blueprint like the badass blueprint-burner you really are.

You're not just healing, you're disrupting history with every choice to rest instead of hustle, to speak instead of shrink, to love yourself instead of trying to earn it from everyone else.

And that? That's not soft. That's not selfish. That's powerful as hell.

You're not just rewriting your story- you're deciding what gets passed down next. And future you? The people who come after you? They're going to thank the absolute hell out of you for doing it.

So here you are. Recognizing patterns. Challenging beliefs that once felt like gospel. Making better choices, even when every cell in your body is screaming "Just do the familiar toxic thing, it's so much easier!" And somehow, despite the emotional whiplash and spiritual indigestion, you haven't combusted under the weight of generational nonsense.

Honestly? That's impressive.

Because, let's not sugarcoat it- breaking cycles is brutal. It's the mental equivalent of trying to reprogram a glitchy Windows 95 computer using nothing but sheer willpower, duct tape, and vibes. It's deleting decades of emotional malware with tools you mostly learned from therapy memes and uncomfortable self reflection.

Some days, you're the main character in a gritty reboot of your life. Other days, you're crying in your car because someone looked at you weird in the grocery store, and now you're unpacking your childhood again. It's a process.

But here's the thing: it's worth it. Every uncomfortable boundary. Every awkward pause where you don't fall into the same old trap. Every time you talk to your inner critic like it's a drunk raccoon knocking over trash cans- loud but not in charge- you're proving to yourself that you are not doomed to repeat the past like a bargain-bin sequel that no one asked for.

With awareness (aka finally realizing "Oh, this is a trauma response, not my personality"), intentionality (choosing new actions even when your brain's doing the emotional equivalent of toddler-level resistance), and persistence (messing up, face-planting, then dragging yourself back up with a sigh and a snack)- you are carving out  a new path. One that doesn't run on outdated survival tactics, inherited guilt, or secondhand emotional clutter.

You're creating something lighter. Healthier. Something where peace isn't a fluke, it's the default. Something where joy doesn't come with guilt, where rest doesn't feel like failure, and where you can actually breathe without bracing for impact.

And one day, you'll look around and realize- you're not just coping anymore.

You're not firefighting your past.

You're living. Like, actually enjoying your life. Without waiting for the next emotional landmine.

And that? That's the whole point.

And that's a wrap on this cycle-smashing episode of Shrink Wrapped. If your brain feels both called out, and oddly empowered- perfect, we nailed it. Remember, breaking cycles isn't about doing it perfectly or becoming a whole new person overnight. It's about showing up, screwing up, learning, and trying again. Every tiny step, every awkward boundary, every "wait… I don't have to keep doing this?" moment counts.

So go easy on yourself. Celebrate the progress, even if it's messy. You're not broken- you're rebuilding. And trust me, the version of you on the other side of all this? They're going to be so damn proud.

Thanks for pushing play on Shrink Wrapped. If this episode hit home, share it with someone who's out there doing the work, too. Remember to rate, review, and subscribe wherever you get your podcasts- Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, iHeartRadio, or on the ONeil Counseling App, and if you want to connect with other cycle breakers, hop into the O'Neil Counseling app (you'll find the link in the show notes), and join in on the conversation. We're building a space for real talk, real healing, and zero judgement.

See you next week- same time, same truth bombs, and we're talking about building habits.